Old culture
I come of an old culture
I love it, filled with hate
It gives me a lot to enjoy
But for me nothing is left
To produce and invent…
In my culture's bag
Lays what one dreams to have…
But the wind of the changes, by man…
"Old is gold" they say
Yes, gold is sold, heartless
I love its wearers, the golden
With loving hearts in their chests…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem